


Return to the Earth

by RikuNghts



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Angst, Burnish, Death, Gen, I will hurt you, I’m so sorry, Memorials, Post-Canon, There is no happy here, You Have Been Warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:14:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26924941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RikuNghts/pseuds/RikuNghts
Summary: All Lio wants is for the Burnish to find a home. Those alive, and those gone.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	Return to the Earth

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve never written a non-relationship fic before. Or this much angst. This actually inspired by a picture I saw on Twitter that made me sob. It’s by @_byronisms and can be seen here: https://twitter.com/_byronisms/status/1311939441678708736?s=21
> 
> Enjoy.

It took the city three years to come through on their promise of a memorial. Three years to rebuild the city, six months of bureaucratic bullshit, and then six months of finishing designs, choosing a location, and building. It had been a long four years of mourning for the Burnish who survived. Who wanted closure. Who wanted acknowledgement from a government that did them wrong. 

Lio was exhausted. More than exhausted. Weary. Ready for this to be over so he could put down the burdens of being the leader of the Mad Burnish and just...rest. Even if it wasn’t forever. Even if it was just for a day. Just one day of oblivion. 

Every day he was making rounds with Meis and Gueira at his side, checking in on his Burnish brothers and sisters and making sure they had what they needed. 

It had been hard at first. The city hadn’t wanted them there. They blamed the Burnish for the city’s destruction despite the obvious torture they’d suffered at the hands of Kray Foresight and the revelation that the city’s government had been complicit. Even with Galo and the rest of Burning Rescue at his side, the citizens of Promepolis pushed back. Pushed them out. They had been given one allowance. 

They were allowed to collect the ashes of their dead from the wreckage of the Parnasus. 

They spent four months in a tent city on the outskirts of the city. Some had wanted to go back to the desert, to rebuild there, but everything they had built there had been destroyed by Freeze Force. Everything they tried to build for themselves was taken away. 

And so they waited, warily, for even this time be taken from them. Lio fought. Meis fought. Gueira fought. Galo fought. Every day they were at the makeshift city hall, waiting to be seen by the interim government. It took three months of daily trips, of sitting in waiting rooms, arguing with secretaries and security guards before the interim governor would see them. 

First they wanted housing for their people. The Burnish were tired of living in a tent city where sanitation was poor and people were crowded together. Illness was running rampant and many hospitals were still hesitant to see them. Winter was coming and they would freeze. They already were freezing without the Promare. It would exacerbate the problems they already faced, and they’d lose more people. It was unacceptable. 

They didn’t listen to him, the leader of a terrorist organization, but they listened to Galo when he all but yelled “Do you want more blood on your hands?” It was so out of character for him that people stopped and took notice. He was the hero of Promepolis, after all. And so discussions began in earnest, and housing was found for the Burnish so long as they helped repair the city. 

And they did. Despite everything they had been through, despite being in a city where most people didn’t want them or trust them, even with the Promare gone, despite having been tortured by some of those same people, they worked themselves to the bone. 

It broke Lio’s heart to see. They were so selfless despite everyone, and so he threw himself into work beside them until his hands cracked and bled. He formed calluses over time. His pale skin burned in the sun. And when the sun set, he and his former generals began their rounds. 

They pushed him to take breaks. His body wasn’t built as strong as the others without the Promare, but how could he? How could he be their leader, the person they still looked up to even though the Promare were gone, if he didn’t throw all he had into this? 

He hardly slept. He hardly ate. Meis and Gueira forced food into him and at their assigned housing, would strip him of his leather, toss him into the bath, and if needed, help him bathe. He hated it. But sometimes he was just too tired to argue. And then they’d cram onto the bed and hold onto him in his sleep. Sandwiched between the two of them, he felt warm. 

And that was another thing that made this all so much worse. He was cold all the time. With the Promare he was always warm. He could go through periods of extreme cold and feel like it was a sunny winter day. Now the only time he felt warm, truly warm, was burrowed under layers of blankets, sandwiched between two bodies. And even then there was a chill that seemed to reach his core. 

Sometimes he ended up with Galo at night. If he was working particularly hard and it was late, Galo sometimes found him, and if they were closer to Galo’s place at the station, he’d be carted off, too tired to fight. Maybe Galo had an agreement with Meis and Gueira because it seemed to be pretty coordinated. 

With Meis and Gueira he never felt alone because he trusted them with his life. With Galo he never felt alone because his presence and personality took over the entire space. Unlike the rooms he shared with Gueira and Meis, Galo’s place had a deep tub that he could sink into. Sometimes he fell asleep, though, and he would wake up to Galo pulling him out of the water, patting him dry, and carrying him off to bed. 

It seemed he was being carried a lot these days. 

Ironic considering how long he’d been carrying others, even if it hadn’t been physical. 

And so they worked. His people were settled into housing and they had jobs. They were paid well below the city average, but it was something to start and provided just enough to get by. 

After a year of progress, Lio was back at city hall every day. They’d elected a new official who was skeptical of the Burnish but not outright hostile to them. He’d agreed on increased wages. Galo was the one who suggested the memorial.

“The Burnish have been through enough, and so many were lost,” Galo said, in a rare moment of sincerity. “They have to have something.” 

“And what would you suggest?” the governor asked. “A monument of sorts?” 

“A monument sounds nice, Boss,” Meis said quietly at this side. “Maybe we could…use it to put the others at rest.”

Gueira hung his head, still unable to hide his sorrow at having lost so many people he had known. 

Lio felt it too, of course. But he schooled his expression and pushed the hollow feeling down deep. 

“A monument would be fitting. One where we can place the ashes of those we lost.”

“What you’re asking for is more of a mausoleum.”

“Oh! It could have a flame in the center, representing the burning fires of their souls!” 

And that was more like the Galo Lio had come to know. 

And so it was agreed upon that there would be a mausoleum to store the ashes of the Burnish. The city suggested two architects to design it, but there was a Burnish architect who wanted the job, and Lio pushed his hand. It was only right that a Burnish memorial was designed by the Burnish. 

After two more years the city was rebuilt. The designs for the mausoleum, no, it was a columbarium now, we’re drawn up, and it was beautiful. Gueria had openly wept upon seeing the rendered design, and both he and Meis had teared up as well. 

It was a large building, large enough to hold all of the Burnish who had died at the hands of the Foresight Foundation and all of those who still lived in Promepolis. As word got out that it was being designed, official requests to be interred there after death started coming in. In private, Lio cried at the thought of all of them being together in the end. 

The building was octagonal in shape, with one wall supporting the grand entrance, six walls for the niches that would hold the urns, and the back wall, opposite the door, a memorial for all those lost in the Parnasus or at the hands of Foresight. The dome of the building was shaped like the Promare flames, and more importantly perhaps, was the flame in the center of the building. Always burning bright for the Burnish at rest. 

The government argued over where it would go. Some on the city council and the zoning committee wanted it on the outskirts of the city. Others wanted it out of the city limits entirely. A few who felt the shame of what they had done to the Burnish wanted it closer. Some feared vandals would destroy it. The Burnish had their own ideas and voiced them to Lio who brought them to the committee. 

“We Burnish want the memorial to be on the west side of the city closest to the desert. When we had no home to speak of, it was the place closest to what we had.” 

“Then why not build it in the desert and be done with it?” One council member sneered. 

Gueira’s hot temper overrode his common sense and Meis held him back. 

“We want it closest to that side to feel the connection, but we deserve to be in the city. There will be a park around it so that mourners can visit in peace. We ask...demand that only Burnish be allowed to enter unless accompanied by one of us.”

“And just how will you achieve that?” 

“A rotation of guards. Your own people do that for important tombs, or at least have historically, have you not?” 

The city leaders couldn’t deny it, and so the final zoning permits were put in place and building began. 

Most of the crew building the columbarium were Burnish, but there were a few non-Burnish citizens who had the skills they needed to complete it. 

While they were building, there was even harder work to do. 

Many Burnish died at the hands of the Foresight Foundation as test subjects for the warp engine. Somehow a list of names had been created, why Lio didn’t know, but it existed and Heris Aldbreit gave it to him. He hated her, and he didn’t want to be thankful for anything, but he took that list. There were hundreds of names. And no ashes to go with them. But they would be represented. Small ceramic urns vaguely flame shaped were ordered and created. One for each person lost. They would have their place in the columbarium. Then came the ashes of those lost in the Parnasus before the Promare left. Those whose bodies could not support the destruction of the warp engine when it was overpowered. They didn’t have their names either, but they had their ashes. And so they were placed in an urn. Then there were those who died from their injuries in the pods after the Promare left. Lio, Meis, and Gueira had been there to identify their bodies. They were cremated and held safely. They received urns with a bronze plaque and their names. And more came. There were those who had been hospitalized after the Parnasus who never recovered. They were cremated and held safely, and they were also in urns with bronze plaques. 

But it wasn’t over. Some had died in the camps or over the last several years from illness or age. They were cremated and placed in urns with their names. And aside from that, more, empty urns were placed in the memorial for those who would follow in the future. 

Gathering names for the memorial wall was the most difficult part. Lio took down the names of all those missing and crossed referenced it with the list from the Parnasuss. They were at least able to identify who might be in the unnamed urns, but it was likely they would never know. 

When the memorial was finished, Lio watched as the unused urns were brought in, followed by those of the lost. If they had family, family members brought them, crying quietly as they placed them in their final resting place. If they had no family, Lio, Meis, and Gueira took it upon themselves to bring them to rest. 

And then it was done. Almost.

The day after it was finished, Lio and his generals headed out in a borrowed truck. They drove out to the formerly frozen lake and found the mountain cave they had once hidden in. The place where he had met Galo. In his lap he held one of the urns with an engraved bronze plaque. Everyone was home. Save one. 

Meis and Gueira followed him in. There were no marks left on the ground, no ashes to collect. But Lio knew where Thyma had taken her last breath. 

Kneeling on the ground he scooped up some of the dirt and placed it in the urn. Behind him Gueira choked back a sob. He had to bite his lip to keep from doing the same. 

“Let’s go home,” he said, both to his friends and to the memory of Thyma.

It was late when they arrived back home, so they went back to their apartment and crawled into bed. Tomorrow was the dedication. It would be a somber affair. And they would bring Thyma home for the last time. 

Lio couldn’t sleep that night. He felt suffocated inside, but Meis and Gueira wouldn’t relinquish their hold in sleep. 

After this was done, what would he do? Was this really it? Was it the end of everything? What was left for him after it was all over? He was just so tired…

Morning came and the three of them were dressed in suits bought just for the occasion. Lio had thought of wearing his leathers, but this was much to somber of an event. He braided his hair back to keep it out of his face. He wanted them to see he suffered, too. 

When they got to the memorial, the Burning Rescue crew was there to provide security. Galo waved quietly from the side and Lio nodded. 

And then it was time. 

The rest of the Burnished gathered outside in the park. It was a warm, quiet day. The Burnish guards stepped aside and let Lio, Meis, and Gueira inside. Lio carries Thyma’s urn, and he placed it in the spot reserved for her. Gueira wept openly, one hand on his back. Meis was at his other side, another hand on his back. 

His eyes burned. It was getting hard to see. His hands shook as he adjusted Thyma just so, her name shining brightly outward. With that last act done, he turned and took in the memorial. It was beautiful. The bronze plaque with all of the names shone in the light of the eternal flame, and the ceiling soared high above them.

He cleared his throat, patting Gueira on the back, and led them out. 

He faced his people one last time as a group and then turned back to the columbarium. 

“From flames to ashes, from ashes to earth. Rest in peace.”


End file.
